Wild, Wild Love
by reflecting
Summary: AU Western, ItaSaku. To travel to a place like this, he was either running from something, or passing through. She’d like to think it was the latter. But does she really? Now a chaptered story.
1. Prologue

**Pairing:** ItaSaku

**Rating:** M, as in MATURE

**Warning:** AU, poor attempt at a Western environment, sex scene and PoV changes. Also, English isn't my first language, so yeah...

**Status:** Now a chaptered story. Unfinished.

**Notes: **"Madame" was a title for a woman who ran a brothel, considered to have "fulfilled her duties" as she too had been a brothel girl.

Cancan costumes can vary, so excuse my poor try at describing it. I have a link to a good you tube clip of cancan dancers that helped me a bit when I wrote some of this fic. just remove the spaces; www(dot)you tube(dot)com(slash)watch?v=G3li4hzYpUQ&feature=related

**_A/N:_**_ Yes, I have now decided to make this into a chaptered story. I will warn you now; the updates will not be regular and it might take a while. This will be a pain-in-the-ass story to write XD Anyway, nothing new in this first chapter. Still un-betaed, so no need to re-read unless you need to refresh your memory before moving on to the next chapter._

_Also, I had done no research when I wrote this "prologue", so there will be a few historical misjudgements. I'm using cancan in this, and that didn't arrive in the USA until around 1920. But the plot I have for the rest of the story is set around the year of 1850, and since I'm using a few specific historical facts as a base for some part of this fanfiction, I can't have it played out in the time period of 1920. So, would you dear readers allow me this modification of history? I want to keep the prologue as it is, you see. _

_Well, now you're aware that I'm aware of this error. But since it's fiction, I'm gonna be bending the rules. I'll warn you about it though, so make sure to read the _**Notes**_ in the beginning of each chapter if stuff like this interests you. Also, feel free to point out errors; I suck at doing research, and history is not my strong point. Also, I'm mostly using wikipedia and we all now how truthworthy THAT can be. lol._

_Anyway, on with the story! Thank you all for the support so far! :D_

* * *

**o-oOo-o**

**Wild, Wild Love**

**o-oOo-o**

**_Prologue_**

The thin, net-like nylon slipped easily over her creamy skin as she pulled it up carefully; wary of her sharp nails. It fit snugly against her long legs, ending somewhere right above her knee. The garters were next, before she secured it with the lace-straps attached to her tight corset. She straightened up after closing the last clasp with a sigh; eyes travelling along her legs before darting up to study the mirror hanging slightly crooked on the wall. She only had her shoes and dress left, followed by a final touch-up on hair and make-up.

Walking over to her folding screen, she reached up and took a hold of the neatly folded dress that hung over the edge. She knew it was pointless, but she stepped behind the screen anyway. Out of habit, or just because it had no other function apart from being decorative, she didn't know. But it was, indeed, beautiful. It had an Asian design, with exotic flowers and a unique style that appealed to her more than any of her possession. Yet it wasn't even hers, really. She had been told it was given to her from a rich traveler, who seemed to appreciate her performance more than anyone else's. Of course, they had added, it would stay in her dressing room. She had been flattered, but had never laid eyes on this mysterious man.

Stretching, she pushed him out of her mind before he could do more harm. She had lost count on how many times she had thought of him, trying to figure out who he was. No one had ever given her presents before, at least not without a price. Shaking her dress a bit too roughly, she let it fall out of its folded state and spent a second staring blankly at the lacy fabric of red, white and black. Another sigh and she quickly slipped into it with practiced ease. She struggled ungracefully for a while to get the zipper closed properly, letting a few mumbled curses display her annoyance. Within a few seconds she was done, stepping out behind the screen and making her way over to her vanity with long strides, hips swaying with every step as she'd been taught the very day she was dumped in this place. Make the tail of your skirt fly, they said. Make the layers of lace and flounces flow with your hips. So she did, after four years, out of habit.

Not bothering to sit down, she leaned over the table, picking up her mascara to thicken the layer of black already adoring her long lashes. She found that framing her eyes made them stand out even more, and she'd rather have the eyes of men transfixed on her rare, pure emerald eyes (not to mention her odd hair), rather than any other place of her body. Putting the mascara away, she reached for the dark-pink rouge and applied enough to make her face seem less round and cutely heart-shaped. There was no lure, no seductiveness, in the innocent look she presented without her make-up; her war paint, as she liked to think of it. Closing the worn box with a snap, she put the rouge down and eyed her reflection critically. She needed a darker shade of lipstick, a dash of dark, glittery eye shadow to create a smokier look for her eyes; they were way too sharp now. With nimble hands she went to work, steady and precise. She had never been artistic, but a quick learner and skilled with the detailed, tricky work of handling a thin brush for straight lines. A few minutes later, she was done. She paused in her movements and seemed to remember something, moving quickly to open a little box by the mirror. She took out a pair of pearl earrings, wasting little time to put them on before taking out a choker of velvet to adore her slim throat. Clasping it close, she straightened up before stretching and reaching down to open a drawer; pulling out a pair of silky, black gloves. They hugged her hands and thin fingers nicely, ending just above her elbow. Nodding to herself after checking the mirror once again, she turned and made her way to the sparsely decorated wooden door. By it stood a pair of black, high heeled shoes which she sipped into with ease.

It was show time.

o-oOo-o

He sat in what had become his usual corner of the saloon, comfortably shielded from sight in the shadows. In his hands he held a big glass of beer, and the still smoking ashtray had been pushed as far away from him as possible. He was alone here, which was normal. He'd forbidden his little brother to come this late in the evening, especially to a shady place like this. He shouldn't be here either; they were both sons of a rich nobleman from the exotic lands of Japan, and an equally rich noble lady of an American family. But he was past the age of a man, already reaching 21, and due to his high standing within the company his father ran, no one asked questions. It helped that he had a wicked right hand; quick to draw and quick to pull the trigger. Not to mention the element of surprise, when he revealed that the biggest part of him was, indeed, Japanese. He had the reputation of being a devil, a wizard, a possessed demon, and various other things he, at the moment, could not remember. When the bullets of his gun were out, he was just as deadly. His father had taught him well.

Taking a careful sip of his beer, clearly recalling the many looks he'd gotten the moment he entered the saloon, he tasted for any poison. When nothing suspicious presented itself, he came to the conclusion that no one with enough money to produce a tasteless, strong poison was around to kill him here. Everything was broken and worn; he was surrounded by things, and people, he knew couldn't have been replaced in years.

Just as he contemplated this, the clinking of the piano in the background picked up in volume and speed as it changed tune to a familiar, state-wide melody that hushed or stirred some; leaving the crowd of drunks in a state of anticipation. When the band, which had been somewhat idle for a while now, joined in he found that despite himself, he couldn't help but lean forward in order to get a better view of the old stage opposite of him. His eyes narrowed as he clasped his hands before him, covering his mouth and the tip of his nose. A slim leg became visible before a woman slipped out from the heavy, tattered curtains concealing the entrance to the scene.

The first girl is out, the next following close behind.

He waited.

o-oOo-o

It was a routine. Jump into the spotlight, smile; follow the line of girls. Pick up the skirt, move your legs, sway your hips; dance. Use the music to fall into sync with the others – jump, spin, stretch, bend; move fast and never falter. Skirt flying in the air, heels marking the floor as they go up and down; she would've blushed had she not done this so many times before. The tune of the music was happy, the energy that flowed between the dancers high and she could already feel her blood pump through her body in an excitement she had at first resented. She could feel the eyes staring at her, at them, and she could hear the encouraging cheers and wolf-whistles from the crowd. The laughter when someone fell, when her foot slipped and she had to go down into a split too early, drowned out the cheers for a moment. But no one really cared, she knew. They were here for a show, and if they made any fuss, it would be over; haltering the well-practiced routine.

The show, as they say, must go on.

o-oOo-o

There was nothing special about the girl, he admitted. Her eyes may be stunning, her pink hair unheard of, but the cheap make-up which covered her face, her tattered and worn clothing were the same as everything else in this town. Dull, old, poor. He honestly did not know what had made him stay longer than necessary in a place like this, what made him return to this old saloon each night. Maybe it was because she was, indeed, one of the better looking ones. And unlike most women around here, she was merely a showgirl; she did not willingly offer any other services unless a man with a stunning, for these parts, amount of money set his eyes upon her. He had checked, because he knew that kind of man.

Himself.

Grinning, he watched as she bent over; rising her skirt along with the others to show off a very firm-looking backside he had admired time and again. Tonight was the night before he left this town, tonight was the night he would make this saloon rich enough to at least buy a tuned-piano and a set of new glasses. She wouldn't be dancing more for the crowd after this act, when the curtain fell, as she usually did. He would make her perform something other than brazen, happy-go-lucky dances designed to please a crowd of drunken slobs.

But for now, he made sure to enjoy her last cancan in his presence.

o-oOo-o

It was with her breath stuck in her throat that she exited the stage, lips straining in a wide smile. Tonight had been a good night, she gathered. No broken heels, no men jumping onto the stage. A huge applause when they fells down on the floor for the last time, shaking their skirts, followed by a string of disappointed groans and shouts as they slipped out of sight once more. But in an hour or so, she would be up there again; this time with only three more girls to sing and dance.

Making her way back to her room reserved for her and four more girls, she began to unfasten the feather-like hat she had gotten thrust into her hands the moment she had arrived at the queue of girls waiting to get up on stage. Apparently, it was another addition to their costume.

Entering the room, she greeted the girls already occupying the room with a smile and a mumbled "hi" before slipping over to a free corner where she could change her dress into a less flamboyant costume. Just as she managed to get out of her dress though, the door swung open to reveal Madame Porter, a slightly plump woman in her forties who had once run a popular brothel not far from this run-down saloon. The Madame's brown, narrow eyes quickly searched the room before landing on her; dressed in her corset and panty-house. She felt her mouth go dry at the look-over the Madame gave her; she had seen that look only a few times before.

"Pinky," Madame Porter said, briskly walking over to her with a bundle of clothes folded neatly in her arms. "You've been bought for the night. Put this on and lessen the make-up; this is an important fellow. Don't mess up, girlie."

With a wink and a crooked smile, the Madame dumped what she assumed was one of the fancier dresses she owned on her stunned self. She watched the older woman approach the door, and stiffened when she turned. "He'll be waiting outside for you. Good luck sweetie."

And with that, Madame Porter was gone, leaving her with a displeased frown and slightly red cheeks. The other girls immediately started tittering, casting her knowing glances as they continued to undress. Taking a deep breath, she tried to contain her anger. She danced, but not like that. She preformed, but not in such a way. She was a showgirl, for sure, her life was bound to her employer's, but she did not offer services like those. She had thought_, she had hoped_, that it would be enough. But she had been quite the fool to believe she would go through this unscratched, and now, it had already happened ten times during her three years here. Though even she knew that it was very little, but it didn't lessen the shame. Wasn't it enough that she danced in these outfits, that she displayed herself to such filthy men? That she actually _enjoyed _the dancing? She supposed that to a poor, young woman with no family, it wasn't.

Letting her fingers glide across the undamaged, silky fabric of the purple and black dress the Madame had given her for the night, she resigned herself to what had to be done. _At least,_ she mused while putting down the dress to look for new lingerie to match it_, tonight will result in a higher pay._ She needed the money to get out of this town, after all.

Away from the West.

o-oOo-o

It was with an impatient sigh that he turned around to greet the soft voice he recognized from the many songs he'd heard her sing. He had waited for her a long time, and the alcohol in his system made it more difficult to control himself, which made itself crystal clear when he laid eyes on her up-close.

Gone were the fancy hair-style or curls and feathers, replaced by a simple knot with a few black clips and loose strands of wavy hair falling down her back. Her face looked several years younger without the heavy make-up; she only had a light shade of pink on lips and cheeks. Even her eyes were not as mature; the black around them significantly less, and the bright, glittery colors of her eye-shadow replaced by a darker purple. Oh, and her clothing… The dress impressed him; elegant to have come from a place like hers. He suspected there worked a former Madame in the saloon, who took care of the showgirls and kept a few things in stock for events such as these. Nevertheless, the dress fit the girl perfectly. She was short, he had noticed before when she stood by the other women, but he now realized just how short she was compared to him. Even her, no doubt, high heels only made her tall enough to reach his shoulders. But she was well proportioned for her size, and her neck was slender and simply decorated with the same velvety choker he had seen on her every night. His gaze followed the line of her throat to take in her softly curved shoulders, further down to her round bust that was emphasized greatly with the help of a, no doubt, tightly laced up corset. Next was her waist, which no doubt was less narrow than it appeared. At least, that was what he hoped. She looked so fragilely thin, he feared she would snap when he finally took her. But he couldn't deny what an appealing effect her slim waist had to her greatly flaring hips, made much wider by her dress' many layers of fabric. He also noted that for once, her legs were not displayed like a delicacy on a silver plate for everyone to see. Covered underneath a wealthy amount of skirts, he knew they were carefully decorated with thin, see through fabric and, he hoped, delicate lace with rich patterns of flowers and leaves.

Indeed, she was a sight to behold.

o-oOo-o

When she had exited the, by now, quite rowdy saloon (several waitresses and more well-behaved men had had to restrain some of the drunker guests as she passed through), she hadn't known what to expect. The back of a tall man had greeted her, and she'd stood absolutely still for a moment. It was dark outside, and the houses provided just enough light to let her see him. He had long, black hair in a low ponytail; tied with what looked like a red ribbon of silk. She marveled at the elegance he seemed to posses; boots clean, dark-blue suit simple but of high quality. He must've stood out, she mused. No one looked like that around here.

And then, he'd turned, as soon as she'd called for his attention. He'd seemed almost impatient.

As his front came into view, she'd barely contained a gasp as she'd taken him in. He had a face of a nobleman; nose straight, skin pale and mouth thin. His jaw and chin weren't as strong as most men's, which made him look quite young and slightly feminine. His exotic eyes only added to it, with long, thick eyelashes and a slight tint upwards. Its dark color seemed to her like they were driving her in closer and she stiffened as she for a moment thought that she was, indeed, moving closer. But after the few seconds it had taken for her to examine him, and meet his gaze, she found his eyes flickering across her face, and downwards. With a blush that rarely made itself visible unless she was in some way agitated, she shyly looked away in hopes of blocking out his scrutiny. It didn't help, much.

Taking a deep breath, no doubt drawing attention to her exposed bosom, she settled for the seductively coy approach she knew men like him fancied. Nothing like a slut playing innocent to make the highborn feel like a real cowboy, she'd been told.

"Do you like what you see, Mister…?"

o-oOo-o

"…Itachi," he replied. "Itachi Uchiha."

She blinked at him, obviously surprised. He allowed himself a small smirk. Clearing her throat, she raised her skirt ever so slightly to greet him properly with a curtsey. "Mister…Uchiha."

She seemed to know as well as he how wrong she had pronounced his foreign name, but he didn't mind. Titling his head, he raised a brow. "And what name do you go by, Miss?"

It seemed as if she was entering familiar ground now, he noted. The misty look and seductive tone of voice was back as she sauntered closer to him. "You may call me whatever you like, sir."

He had waited for that famous line, and allowed his smirk change into a wider grin. He had the perfect name for her, and he did not wish to know her real one.

"As you wish, Miss Sakura."

o-oOo-o

She spared the room a quick glance before following close behind…Itachi. She had never heard a name like his, but then again, she had never seen such exotic looks either. She knew he couldn't be from around here, not even America as a whole, because his accent was one of a foreigner. She had come to the conclusion he was here on business, and if so, he must be quite the businessman. The hotel he stayed at was the most expensive in town, and she'd gotten a lot of stares from men she supposed had at least once visited the saloon she worked at.

Once they'd reached hi room, she'd closed the door and locked it, as his instructions had been, before she'd followed him to the bed. It was a simple, yet expensive-looking room, from what she'd gathered with a few glances here and there. It had only two rooms, with hardly anything but decorative wallpaper and color on the walls. One room was closed, its wooden door elegantly craved. She guessed it was the bathroom. The main room, which she was entering further now, only consisted of a huge, silky-clad bed with an impressive wooden structure and a set of chairs with a table in the corner. That and a wardrobe was all she could take notice of before her attention was brought to the man before her. She found herself even more curious about him now that she had confirmed her suspicion about his wealth. She wanted to know where he was from, why he was here. To travel to a place like this, he was either running from something, or passing through. She'd like to think it was the latter.

Resisting the urge to shake her head, she moved in closer to the man before her_. Silly me_, she thought, _ain't ever no good taking such interest._

o-oOo-o

He was amazed by how easy it was to read her emotions. Her face, her eyes and body was like an open book; no specific language spoken. Right now, he noted, she had come to a conclusion. He waited for her to reach him, and it didn't take long. Her mouth was already opening as he bent down to steal a kiss from her the first time. Ah, it tasted like lipstick; a tell-tale flavor of a woman like her. He pushed forward; slipping his tongue passed her painted lips to feel her real taste. It turned out to be as neutral, but with a tint of wild berry sweetness that intrigued him. One hand ran up to cup the back of her head, deepening the kiss, and the other snuck down to rest at the small of her back, pressing her close. Her muffled moan spiked his arousal, and had he been completely sober he wouldn't have bit her lip in response to the sweet sound. But he did, and the gasp it provoked made him grunt in approval.

Her hands travelled up his arms, stopping by his shoulders to rest for a few seconds before going further; thin, delicate fingers burying themselves in his thick hair. Goosebumps covered his arms when her long nails scraped his scalp, and he decided that a week of watching her with lust-filled eyes, a week of going to bed unsatisfied, had been more than enough waiting. He only had one night with her, and he was going to make it memorable.

o-oOo-o

She was reacting quite differently from how she usually did when a man's lips crushed her own, tongue caressing hers as his hands ran up and down her back. He was skilled, she had to admit, and very alluring. She could not help but let out a noise of disappointment when he broke away and roughly turned her around. She let out a startled yelp when he pushed her forward, until they reached the wall where he pressed her close. She could barely breathe after being kissed so thoroughly with a restraining corset that she never really got used to, and now he pressed out whatever she had left in her lungs by pushing her hard against the cold wall. She whimpered, but gasped for air as his grip loosened and his hands started to work on her dress. It was fairly easy to un-lace her dress, it was probably made for this, but she suspected he would have a little more difficulty with the corset. It was an attractive one, very pleasing to the eyes and first of all sexy, but just as hard to get on as off.

He surprised her with his talented finger work though, when she found herself free of both dress and corset within minutes. But she barely noticed time with his mouth on her neck, shoulder or mouth; she was already panting and feeling the tightening of her lower stomach as he repeatedly thrust against her. Now, in a search for more contact, she arched her back in time to his thrust and earned herself a low, rumbling growl of approval. It shouldn't make her stomach flutter, or her head to soar, yet she could not help but flash him a teasing grin as she repeated the action. His hands flew to her hips and gripped them hard, making her breath hitch in pain, and he held her still as her grinded against her a few more times before stopping to lean against her; mouth by her ear, breath hot and wet against her skin. Once more she was fully pressed against the wall, he arms not strong enough to hold them both up. It made her shiver and gasp, for her naked breasts were snugly pushed against the chilly wall, while her back almost burned from his heat. Moans and whimpers snuck through her parted lips as he began to move against her again, slowly this time. The wall was cold and hard against her front, and his shirt was rough against her back. It was uncomfortable, her skin was too sensitive but she found no time to complain as his hands moved down her hips to sneak between the wall and her stomach, his weight lessening to free her enough for his reach. She almost choked on her moan when his fingers slipped past her damp folds, finding her throbbing bundle of nerves with ease before caressing it with sure, rhythmic strokes that made her hips buckle helplessly against him. His own thrusts had not yet subsided and they synced his strokes deliciously, making her legs too weak to bear her weight. But before she could fall, his free arm hooked around her waist and pulled her up straight with ease.

Clenching her fists, she took this brief moment to try and compose herself, but with little success. She was hot; heavily aroused and prepared to be reduced into a wanton bundle of begging trash if he would just soothe the ache that ad started to spread from her stomach to her sex, all the way down to her toes. Her muscles almost seemed to cramp when his fingers snuck inside her heat, thumb still pressing against her most sensitive spot. Her thighs trembled, and she found herself vocalizing her needs with a desperate tone she had rarely heard herself utter.

"Please," she begged, "sir, mister, _take me._"

o-oOo-o

She was perfect. She played like a finely tuned harp in his hands, so sensitive; reacting to his every ministration. He had yet to drink her in with his eyes, but right now he was busy making her sing, making her melt in his grasp. When she could no longer stand on her own, he decided it was time. The pace of his fingers slowed, and he noted how she shuddered in protest before slowly, slowly breaking down. She needed more, and he found that he could not deny her when she _begged_ him for it.

Tearing himself off the wall, and dragging her boneless body with him, he made his way towards the bed. He threw her down on her back, remaining where he stood to properly view what he had before him. He could not help but smirk.

Her whole upper body was bare, leaving her creamy, round breasts and pink, pert nipples clear in sight. A blush of arousal and probably embarrassment dusted her soft skin from her chest, up to her throat and all the way to her soft, rounded cheeks. With emerald eyes darkened, half-shut and glazed over with lust, she looked plain wanton. Not to mention her swollen lips, smeared lips stick and various bite marks already adoring her pale, otherwise flawless skin. With a hum of approval, he left his eyes roam the rest of her. She still had her lacy, black panties on, allowing him only to see a little of what she hid underneath. Then, there were her legs, covered up mid-tight with black stockings; the right leg's lacy edge covered with a stylish purple garter, with both black and white ribbons. Jumping from side to side, he let his eyes travel down her legs to end at her feet, which were still in a pair of neat shoes; their heels long and deadly sharp. His gaze darted back up to her face as an impatient growl left her lips, surprising him slightly. When he met with glaring, green eyes he almost grinned. Twice now had he glimpsed something other than the submissive showgirl, but right now, he did not want to inspect it further.

Descending upon her, he trapped her against the bed with his body, and silenced her protests with a deep kiss, letting the taste, feel and sound of her tickle his senses. Moving downwards, he placed soft kisses, light nibbles and quick laps of his tongue along the way, pausing only to play briefly with her hardened nipples. She gasped and squirmed underneath him, burying her hand in his long hair, twisting it almost painfully. He ignored this and moved further down, teasing her stomach with light touches of his lips and tongue, nuzzling the soft flesh with his nose while breathing in her scent. The further down he got, the spicier, muskier and mouth-watering it got. Then he reached the patch of curly hair, where he stopped to take a long, deep breath. He wanted a taste, but returned back up instead, kissing the lips of her mouth. When she twisted her mouth away, he growled, about to reclaim it when she hastily put a hand between them, pressing a finger against his lips.

"It's been over a year since a man touched me there, Mr…Uchiha. I assure you, I am quite clean," she mumbled, the pink on her cheeks darkening. For almost forgetting his name, or for what she said, he did not know. Raising a brow, he found himself smirking in amusement as she looked away, mumbling an excuse.

"Then perhaps, Sakura," he drawled, making her look at him uncertainly; unused to the strange name, he assumed. "I shall take a taste?"

o-oOo-o

She had never allowed a man to pleasure her with his mouth after the first time is happened. It had been an awkward, uncomfortable experience and something she had not wished repeated. Yet this time around, she could not deny or explain the devastating disappointment she felt when he did not continue. Perhaps that was why she blurted out something so utterly stupid and embarrassing, she wasn't sure and had little time to think it over. When he said her, 'name', she had been quite surprised. He hadn't used it since he had given it to her; they had exchanged little words since the met. But before the rest of his words could register, he was already moving downwards yet again. She gasped, letting out a yelp as his hot, wet tongue came in contact with her sweet, sweet spot. She arched herself off the bed, head thrown back and eyes wide open in pleasure as he didn't stop. Licking, nibbling, pulling, thrusting; she could not keep up as she trashed her head from side to side, mumbling nonsense and giving way to the building fire inside. It did not take long before she let out a choked scream, placing both her hands over her mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound. A slap to her inner thigh had her screaming again, this time in pain, but she couldn't explain the shiver running up her spin as anything but pleasure. Still high on her orgasm, she trembled.

"Don't cover your mouth again, Sakura," he said, barely loud enough for her to hear unless she concentrated, which was difficult at the moment. But she tried, and she heard the last part clearly.

"I want to hear you scream."

o-oOo-o

If he could describe the taste of her passion's essence he would, but he found himself at a loss. Neither of the languages he spoke had a name for her taste, or even her smell. But at the moment, it mattered little. The only thing he needed to contemplate at the moment was what to do with her next, and he already had a list of interesting ideas in mind. But she took advantage of his momentarily spaced-out state, and flipped them over. He allowed her, but barely managed to fight down the urge to act on self-defense. By the look in her eyes though, he gathered this would be interesting.

Still clad in his suit, he lay patiently regarding the woman straddling him. She seemed to take little notice, her eyes on fire, as she quickly set to work. Unbuttoning his shirt and jacket, she ran small hands along his naked chest, causing him to shiver. Her hands went down to his belt as she bent over to kiss his throat, unfastening it and throwing his holster with gun and bullets on the floor along with it. He managed to kick his boots and socks off as she attacked his skin with hot, searing kisses and harsh, exciting bites. He felt himself throb almost painfully once she finally reached his pants, where he watched in wonder how she unzipped him with her teeth. She wasted little time in ridding him of his pants, and he helped her as well as he could with her still on him. Soon even his boxers were gone, and he regarded her with amusement as she took in his arousal. Other than a blush, she betrayed little other than determination and hot, glaring passion. He did not mind, and as she moved down his body he found himself relaxing. It was with a soft, pleased moan that he let her lips close around his shaft; burying him in a hot, wet carven of tender bliss that soothed the ache of unfulfilled desires. Moving up and down, she brought him higher and higher. Lips gliding wetly against him, tongue caressing and teeth scraping ever so lightly; he could barely stand it.

With a grunt, he pushed her away.

o-oOo-o

She straightened to sit back on her knees, staring down at the man before her. She licked her lips, still tasting him, and touched them lightly with her fingers. She had never enjoyed using her mouth, but it seemed at when he was involved, nothing she had previously experienced could be entirely correct. She was, however, somewhat thankful for the majority of times her visits with men had involved no more than her mouth and hands due to their inebriated state. He was a fool if he believed himself so much better than her, that her screams were the only ones to be heard tonight. If he could bring pleasure like that, she so could she.

"Are we done playing, Itachi?" she asked, impatient but with a slight grin when he stiffened at the use of his name. She doubted she had pronounced it correctly, but that was far from her mind. Despite being brought all the way up to the clouds, she had returned back to earth and the ache inside of her had yet to be fully satisfied. She knew what she wanted, what she needed. She just had to rile him up a bit, she mused.

o-oOo-o

He decided that he liked the odd sound of his name roll off her wicked tongue, and gave her little chance to fully consider her question before he answered it with actions. He pushed her to the side, rolling over quickly to follow and pin her down against the mattress once again. She struggled, but it was to no help. He was strong, and could probably snap her delicate wrists in two. Capturing her lips in a kiss before she could utter a word, he moved swiftly between her legs while one of his hands trailed down her stomach and in between his hard member and her soft folds. Taking a hold of himself, he guided himself to her entrance with ease before thrusting in roughly. She cried out against his mouth, and he quickly broke away to savor the sound of surprised pain, mingled with the pleasure of being filled. He found it hard be keep quiet himself, and almost shook as a growl rumbled low in his chest, escaping through his lips as they parted. She was amazingly tight, fitting snugly around him and he had to keep still for a few moments in order to compose himself. When she moved against him before he could do so, a loud gasp escaped him, "Sakura!" She paid him no mind, and continued to grind against him; her mesmerizing eyes closed. He knew he probably grabbed her hips too hard again, but he was shaking and trembling with the effort of keeping the little control he had left. Her pained and pleading whimpers helped him calm down, and he slowly loosened his grip to start thrusting into her almost unbearable heat.

"Ah, amazing…" he whispered, bent over her body with his forehead resting against her shoulder. She moaned his name, and he found himself slipping away. Harder, faster, _deeper,_ she begged. He happily complied.

o-oOo-o

She was exhausted, spent and thoroughly satisfied in ways she had only heard others whisper about. It was with a quiet sigh of slight despair that she realized she needed to get up, out of bed, into her clothes and away from the room. Itachi, as she had found herself calling him after the many times he…_made_ her do it, lay panting beside her, having just moments before rolled off her. She was amazed by his stamina, but now, she knew it was over because he was already reaching for the tangled, silky covers. Biting her lower lip, she slowly sat up; muscles tired and screaming for rest. She paid them little mind though, as she made her way to get off the way too comfortable bed. A hand around her wrist stopped her though, and before she could progress any reaction at all, she was pulled back and made impact with a warm, hard chest. Frowning, she turned her head to gaze up at a pair of dark, almost black, blue eyes in a face she knew would haunt her for days, if not months…even years she dared to admit.

"Mr Uchiha, I beg your pardon, but this is my queue to leave," she said tiredly, finding no energy to make it sound as snappish as she would've liked. The annoyance that flared in her at his amused grin would've provided her with a proper outburst had he not covered her mouth with a hand and spoken first.

"You are mine for the night, Sakura, and I intend to keep you through the _whole_ night," he explained, making her still in her struggled to free herself. She froze, realizing she had forgotten why she was here, exactly. She was bought, her services desired by a man who helped himself to them by dumping a bag of money in the lap of her employer. She sighed, feeling her exhaustion wash over her again. She wondered if she would ever have a lover, and lost herself briefly in a fantasy were the strange man beside her was not a costumer. It ended abruptly when smooth fingers stroked her stomach, making lazy circles. She looked up to find him gazing at her through half-closed eyes, and he couldn't help but blush at the knowing grin adoring his kiss-swollen lips.

He couldn't know, right?

o-oOo-o

Observing her was an interesting business, he noted. So many things happening behind those eyes, so many thoughts inside that pink mop of tangled hair. He found himself wanting to know exactly what it was, but he could only guess. The way her eyes seemed to harden when he spoke the truth of the situation, the way they suddenly softened as she drifted away in a dream and the way she looked at him now; scared and wary.

Such an intriguing creature.

o-oOo-o

It was when the sun rose and bathed the room with a warm light that she awoke once more. She doubted she had gotten many hours of sleep, but she found that she didn't care. She had herself to blame, after all. She hadn't wanted to fall asleep; she had happily returned the lazy kisses Itachi had indulged her throughout the night, fighting to stay awake to watch him drift off, only to wake up a few minutes later. Like he said, she was her through the night and she had discovered with little difficulty that she quite enjoyed being his. It was a shame time would not stand still for anyone, and now as the rays of the morning sun reached her eyes she knew it was over. It was a good thing that the man beside her was still asleep, because the tears staining her cheeks were beyond embarrassing. Rolling over to her side, letting her back face him, she buried her face into the pillow and fought down a sob.

Really, she should've learn by now that happy endings does not exists, not in her world

o-oOo-o

He watched her calmly as she dressed, ignoring the stirring in his groin when she bent over to straighten her stockings. Her corset was sloppily tied, as he had not helped her lace it up. He rather liked her naked, and found that any excuse to have her linger just a few more moments was good enough for him. But it didn't take her long to slip into her dress and straighten her hair, and her make-up was easily fixed after a few minutes before the small mirror in his bathroom. Before he knew it, it was time for her to leave.

She stood by the door, gazing at him for a moment. She flashed him a smile, but before she could turn to the door he stood; ignoring the fact that he was start naked and, as it were, slightly aroused. She blushed prettily, and he admired the way her bosom colored before he turned to open his wardrobe. In it lay his luggage, almost untouched in its trunk, and he rummaged about it for a few moments before straightening up and looking over to the pink haired woman looking extremely uncomfortable and confused by the door. He walked over, and handed her the ornament in his hand. It was a beautiful, black Asian comb in lacquer, decorated with the famous cherry blossoms of Japan. It had belonged to his father's mother, and was something to be valued. He had already given her an equally beautiful folding screen that his mother had insisted he brought along on his travels to bring her once he arrived home. He gathered it would be put to better use hiding Sakura's delicate body, than as another expensive decoration for his mother's room. When asked, he would reply what he had been robbed. Which, indeed, he had, in way that he wouldn't allow himself to think of.

o-oOo-o

"Take care of this," he said, dropping the comb in her outstretched hand. She looked at him with wide eyes, her blush still present.

"I, oh, are you sure?" she stuttered, knowing she should refuse the gift but finding herself unable to do so. He raised a brow, as if to question her ability to hear. She swallowed, about to speak when he leaned down to press a soft kiss against her lips. She didn't allow him to pull away, already flinging her arms around his neck to keep his mouth on hers. It was wrong of her, she knew, but he was so delicious; already responding to her desperate kisses. When she allowed him to break away again, she found herself gazing into his eyes.

"How much will that cost me?" he asked, a crooked grin adoring his damp lips. She smiled, the grip of her arms around his neck loosening. "An answer to a question," she replied. He raised his brow again, clearly amused as he spoke, "Ask away."

She bit her lip, unsure. With a deep breath, she came to the conclusion that if it failed, she wouldn't see him ever again.

"When I leave this place, where can I go to find you?"

o-oOo-o

It was with a soft smile that he left town, comfortably seated in a cart together with his little brother. Such madness, he mused. What would his father say if he knew his heir had fallen for a showgirl in the west, in less than a week's time? He found himself fantasizing about what it might be, once she caught up with him. The money he left behind would be more than enough to pay off whatever debt she had to her employer and with her promise still fresh in his mind, he would not have to wait for long before he found out firsthand what his father's reaction would be.

Meanwhile, his foolish little brother seemed quite busy trying to figure out what made him smile so disgustingly _genuine._

o-oOo-o

**TBC**

oOo

**A/N: **_PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW! :D They mean a lot and helps me update faster :)_


	2. Chapter 1

**Status: **Incomplete.

**Notes: **Not much to comment on historical-wise. Not yet. Not much fact is used in this chapter, and I apologise in advance if my fictional writing is so unreal that it is bad. **Read the previous chapter's A/N for updated information (as of the 30th of December 2008) regarding this story.**

**A/N:** _As mentioned above, this chapter has little facts. It has no ItaSaku action, sadly, but it is relevant to get the story moving. I'm introducing a new character and I'll explain and ramble on about this character at the end of the chapter, hopefully answering any question you might have after reading this update. Again, I apologise for any typos or grammatical errors that you'll find._

_ Ah, but now, a slight refreshing of memory..._

**Last time:**

_"How much will that cost me?" he asked, a crooked grin adoring his damp lips. She smiled, the grip of her arms around his neck loosening. "An answer to a question," she replied. He raised his brow again, clearly amused as he spoke, "Ask away."_

_She bit her lip, unsure. With a deep breath, she came to the conclusion that if it failed, she wouldn't see him ever again._

_"When I leave this place, where can I go to find you?"_

_

* * *

_

**o-oOo-o**

**Wild, Wild Love**

**o-oOo-o**

_**The Journey Begins**_

This morning promised a hot day. It was the end of the summer, and the air was not only still, but dry and heated as well. Not many were on the dusty streets around this time, apart from a few drunks struggling to get home and those who had to get to work by sunrise. She stood watching a man, in his forties or so, who leaned shakily against the wall of the run-down house opposite of where she was standing. He had light-brown hair, unkempt and tangled under a worn hat, with similarly coloured chaps covering torn jeans. His boots matched the ground on which he walked ever so slowly, or, she noted, perhaps it was shuffling. As she continued to observe his journey along the house's wall, she noticed he had a limp as well. Narrowing her green eyes, she realized the dark spot on his thigh was growing slowly, but surely. Blood. She sighed, looking away. It wasn't an unusual sight, but it never ceased to make her uneasy. Living in a world where violence was so common, she supposed she ought to get used to it. Still, she trained her eyes on the horizon instead; head turned to get a clearer view of the eastern entrance of this small town. The road she quietly occupied went straight through town; both ends of it being on opposite sides. This was where the wagons and carts went through, where the horses trampled the ground till it was hard as stone; leaving a trail of dust behind. This was where her ticket out of here was – a ticket, which she held securely in her petite hand; a small bag of gold.

The sun was now above the horizon, bathing her in a warm light and forcing her to blink several times. It couldn't be long now, she mused. Minutes passed by, until she saw a familiar shadow appear at the end of the road. Her lips formed an excited smile as she watched it grow larger, seeing the clouds of dust and soon hearing the dulled sound of hooves hitting the ground at a high speed.

"Finally," she mumbled as a cart entered town, slowing its speed until it came to a stop where she stood. She looked up and gave the coachman a sincere smile before quickly bending down to fetch her luggage lying by her feet. It wasn't much; the old Madame hadn't taken kindly to her decision to leave, and even less so when she presented the money needed to pay back her debts. The young girl didn't mind though, because for the first times in years, she would be free. And, she'd realized, she would be going to something that was more worth than the dresses and small possessions she had been forced to leave behind. Even the exclusive folding screen had been confiscated as property of the rundown bar she'd worked at, but she couldn't find it in her to be truly sad.

"Are you the only one Miss?" the coachman asked, ignoring the people exiting his wagon. She nodded, waiting for the two ladies and their husbands to finish. He gave her a wide grin, but she had already looked away and was busy greeting the travellers.

"Be careful child," the older woman said when she passed, her tone offended as she glared at the driver. "It's a vicious ride!"

"Oh I'll be alright M'am," was the pink haired girl's reply, followed by a warm smile. The older woman snorted, before leaving with her husband. Now the wagon was empty, and she didn't spare a minute before climbing in to take a seat. Tucking her small baggage underneath the slightly uncomfortable bench, she finally leaned back and heaved a happy sigh. This was it. Now she would leave her old life behind, and she would---

"WAIT FOR ME!! OI!! DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE, YOU HEAR?!"

--what? Blinking, she leaned over to look out the small window just in time to see a young man struggling to slow his speed, running toward the now closed door. A muttered protest from the coachman couldn't silence the young man's harsh breathing as he tore the door open and jumped in, seemingly unaware that a lady was occupying the seat opposite of him as he slumped down with a loud exhale of breath. She blinked, again; slightly startled. She had thought she'd be the only one taking this ride, but it seemed she was wrong. Observing the man as he caught his breath, eyes focused intently on the ceiling and body ungracefully sprawled over the whole bench, she realized she had never seen him before.

He had blonde hair like the rays of the sun, eyes bluer than the sky and a handsome face with a healthy tan; seemingly smooth skin apart from the scars that marred his cheeks. They looked like whiskers, she noted as her curiosity rose. The wagon had already begun to move, the slight swinging and the sound of hooves being tell-tale signs this blonde man hadn't seemed to register. It wasn't until she spoke up that he was yanked back to reality.

"Um, hello?" was all she said, but it made him almost jump out of his skin. Immediately he was sitting up straight, hand resting against something she realized, with a gasp, was a revolver. When his blue eyes met her startled gaze his whole manner seemed to change from slightly threatening to a sheepish, surprised one. Her heart didn't calm down.

"Oh, sorry girl!" he exclaimed, voice loud and strong. "You just surprised me; I hadn't noticed you, you see!"

Well, that much was obvious, she thought with a huff. "It's alright sir, I apologise for startling you." He grinned at her words, shaking his head. "It's entirely my fault, you know! Anyway, what's your name, girl?"

She was about to answer, but paused; blinking. A warm smile spread and she let out a small laugh. "My name is Sakura. And yours?"

He seemed surprised; she guessed he'd never heard a name like that before. She didn't blame him, it was strange, but…she liked it.

"Sakura, eh? Well, my name is Naruto! Believe it!"

Then again, perhaps he was used to strange names.

o-oOo-o

This ride would be a long one, but it would be the last before he reached his destination. His so called friend, that bastard, had left him behind to go travelling with that stick-up-the-ass older brother of his. So, they might've had a fight the night before they had decided to leave. So, he might've said a few bad things. So, they might've agreed to not see each other again. That honestly didn't mean he'd truly meant it though, and it had been quite a shock to find the hotel room beside his empty as he'd happened to oversleep. He was determined to duel some sense into that bastard, and thus, had gone on a rather exhausting journey. He had no idea where they were going, but he'd had a guess. So far, it proved to be a good hunch. After inquiring the staff of the finest hotel in the previous town, he'd gained enough information to conclude that yes, a man named Itachi Uchiha had been here, and yes, a younger man with the hairdo of a turkey's ass had accompanied him. What had made this discovery very frustrating though, was the fact that they'd left two days prior to his arrival. From what he'd gathered they'd stayed for about a week, and he couldn't help but wonder what made the two most spoiled, snobby, rich sons of even richer parents stay in a place such as the town he himself was now leaving behind after only a day. He would have to ask the bastard once their _glorious_, _tear-filled_ reunion has taken place (he had no doubt it would be violent). Now, however, he'd found a much more pleasant person to have a conversation with.

The young girl before him couldn't be more than fifteen, probably a year younger than himself. Her wide, green eyes were captivating, and the pink locks of her hair added to her exotic beauty. The soft, cheery sound of her voice added to her lure, as well as the way in which she held herself; elegant and gentle, but with a certain strength he couldn't pinpoint at the moment. She was, he realized even as their conversation betrayed many common interests, the opposite of himself. He felt his movements were rough when compared to her soft manner, his voice overpowering her quiet words, his looks rugged and his clothes torn with battle and travel. Even so, she was _gorgeous._ And there was no ring on her finger.

"So you've been stuck there for four years, you say?" he asked as she paused in her story. Nodding, the girl named Sakura smiled. He thought it was an odd name for her, especially since she was practically in the middle of the West and nowhere near Japan, in looks or geography.

"Yes, and I was lucky; after only a year I managed to get myself a job, although I had to spend another year to learn. It was a pretty decent job too," she explained, sighing and looking out of the window with a distant look in emerald orbs. "Well, maybe you wouldn't actually call it _decent_."

He frowned at the strange tone of her voice, the sudden change of atmosphere uncomfortable. "You said you worked as a dancer, right, Sakura?" he began, flashing a small smile when she turned her attention back to him. When she nodded to confirm, he continued. "That's quite impressive. I have no sense of rhythm what-so-ever! My bastard friend always reminds me, you know? It's kinda annoying, 'cause he knows squat about dancing as well! Always insisting on some sissy ballroom waltz thing. The music has no heat, if you ask me!"

He hoped he hadn't stepped over the line, trying to lighten the mood. He was no fool, although he might appear as one quite often. He knew what happened to girls like Sakura, pretty ones stuck in an occupation such as hers. Her grin and the slight glint in her eyes told him he needn't worry.

"Really now? I quite enjoy dancing, Mister – although I've had quite few opportunities to dance waltz of all things. Not so popular out here!" she replied with a giggle, pausing to ponder. "In fact, I only remember trying it out once. It was quite easy."

"You can drop the 'Mister', Sakura," he said with a slight grin, shaking his head and sighing slightly in relief at the change of mood. "Makes me sound _old_, you know?"

Laughing, she nodded her head in agreement. "Sorry Naruto, old habits die hard."

He snorted; glancing over to meet her gaze as he slowly leaned forward to rest his arms against his knees lazily, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. Her faint blush pleased him, and he waited a moment before asking what he had been dying to for quite some time.

"So, Sakura…living the life of a showgirl, and then suddenly leaving. They couldn't have paid you much at that place, I believe," he began, watching her with a growing interest as she started to fidget. When he paused, she shrugged, and he continued.

"You must have some interesting stories to tell, right?"

o-oOo-o

Despite his unkempt looks and rugged manner, her male travelling counterpart was very charming. He made their conversations light and amusing, although it lacked any stimulating intelligence. Blue eyes never roamed past her face; rough, calloused hands never strayed from his side – she had to admit he was a gentleman, in a weird kind of way. Even his speech was polite, if you ignored the strange accent she had yet to identify.

Which were all reasons why she had been so startled by his recent behaviour, not to mention being slightly unsettled by his question as well. It was fine and dandy to talk about the trifle things they had exchanged so far, but was it safe to reveal her destination? The reason behind her departure? She was not an idiot. She may not have been schooled, but she knew what she needed to survive as undamaged as possible and so far, it had worked. Telling a stranger that a man rich enough to waste money on paying off a random showgirl's debts was waiting for her was honestly sending of pretty loud warning bells in her pretty little head. The blonde was nice, and charming, but she knew from experience that men could become quite nasty indeed; polite and kind persona forgotten.

She opted for a censored version, since she hated to lie. He didn't need to know that someone was _waiting_ for her. She might be the one leaving someone behind, right?

"Stories, you say?" she began, sighing slightly as she forced herself to relax again. His position on the bench before didn't change, but his eyes lit up with genuine interest. She couldn't decide if this was a good or a bad thing. "I guess you could say it began with a gift."

He grinned as she paused, his teasing and slightly suggestive manner changing to a quite attentive one; letting one arm fall to lie limp over his lap as the remaining arm served as a support for his head, chin resting against his palm. She noted with wry amusement that had he been younger, it would've seemed as if she was going to tell him his goodnight story. Shaking her head, she sighed. It all began with a gift? Then what? Titling her head, she grinned.

"Then, there was a man."

o-oOo-o

He should've known a girl like her was bad news. She was too pretty, too sweet, too easy to like. He grimaced at the notion of getting all his fortune snagged from under his nose by this particular female, because he had a nagging feeling that after a night in her bed, he wouldn't really mind. Not enough to hunt her down, anyway – which was probably why she didn't seem too troubled that she'd robbed a wealthy traveller. But, he had to admit that had he met her in the saloon while she worked, his first thought would be that she didn't belong there. Still, he would have to be a bit more careful from now on.

"Wow, that was quite a story!" he said at last, having spent a few moments in complete silence after she finished her tale. "Not something that happens every day, you know?"

When he laughed nervously she giggled at his discomfort, making him shrug weakly. "No need to worry Naruto, I won't steal anything from you. I promise," she said, voice soft and filled with amusement. Despite himself, he felt assured by her words but couldn't help but think that he was being fooled all the same. Before he could ponder too much on the subject, she spoke up.

"How about you then, Naruto?" she said, titling her head with a grin; a gesture he had come to recognise as something that was solely hers. "You mentioned you were chasing a friend through the states, and I imagine you two are pretty close. How did you meet? You two seem like you have quite the history."

He laughed as she finished her last sentence, wondering if she had a nose for sniffing out good stories. She might or might not know it, but she chose a quite interesting question to ask. How, indeed, did an orphan child of the Wild West meet the youngest son of a Japanese nobleman? He could describe it with nothing better than saying it was a coincident, and, perhaps, a strike of dumb luck. Voicing it out loud, he managed to catch her full attention. Not sure how to proceed, he paused. There was things he probably could not tell her, which would force him to modify the tale into something he was sure wouldn't cause their thin bond of – if not friendship, then at least some kind of companionship – to break. He did not like to hide things, but from experience he knew the story of his past and present did more harm than good; it didn't matter that he was not ashamed of it himself. Snorting, he refocused his blue gaze on the young female opposite of him; pleased to note she was waiting eagerly for his reply. He wouldn't keep her waiting.

"Well," he began with a sigh and lopsided grin, "it was much like this; two travelling through the prairie in a cart. Although, it was much fancier than this and I was not one of the travellers. But I was indeed travelling, in the opposite direction and on horseback though. I prefer that, you know?

Anyway, it really was fortunate that I decided to use the main road for travel. When I met up with the cart, they were engaged in a rather interesting fight with a couple of robbers. I helped out, of course, because you never know; there might've been a pretty little lady like yourself stuck in the middle of all that, you see?" he winked at her, making her blush every so lightly, before continuing with a wistful sigh. "Well, there wasn't any, if you're wondering. It was that bastard and his older brother; two ungrateful gits, if you ask me. I admit they were impressive, I mean, it's not easy taking on a whole band of thieves with only two guns! But, you know, they were out-mannered – quite badly too – but I wasn't travelling alone, so with my help it was pretty easy to turn the situation around!

And after that, the bastard told me to get out; not even a word of thanks! I was ready to give him a healthy beating, and I would've succeeded too, if it weren't for his older brother butting in!" he grumbled, remembering the utterly arrogant and annoying tone his friend had used. Shrugging, he continued. "It wasn't that bad though, he actually offered me a job. Their coachman had been shot down and was pretty badly hurt, you see, so he said to drive the cart for them, and I'd get a heavy pay! Of course I said yes, you know? Not easy making a living out here, so I'm taking on whatever job is offered, most of the time!"

When he paused this time, he noted her expression had changed from attentive to thoughtful, and he couldn't help but wonder what went on behind those emerald orbs currently fixated on the floor of the wagon. He hadn't left out that much, but she seemed to be taking a bit too long pondering his words. Her next question strengthened his earlier belief that she was, for a lack of better words, bad news. People had always told him things like this were his weakness.

"Who were you travelling with?"

o-oOo-o

His story was amusing; the very golden example of the whimsical twists of fate. But the stiff way he retold it, the way the speed of his speech varied one too many times, and, most telling of all, how his gaze kept flickering about, told her there was something missing. She wasn't one to probe, but this man fascinated her. Something about him told of many interesting stories to be heard, many adventures accomplished that she could only dream of witnessing, let alone experience. So, she asked what had caught her attention. Who had accompanied him on his trip that day, who had helped him save his friend and brother? Who was dismissed so easily in this tale?

His troubled expression told her she shouldn't have asked, and she found herself regretting it as an uncomfortable silence settled over them. His nervous laughter did nothing to lighten the mood, but before she could apologise for stepping over a line she had not seen, there was a horrifying sound that made her stiff with fear.

A gunshot. Followed by another, and another.

She panicked, letting out a dismayed yelp as the speed of the wagon increased drastically. Letting her frightened gaze flicker from one window to another, trying to pin-point the location of whoever was firing what sounded like a heavy loaded shotgun, she nearly hit her blonde travelling companion straight in the face as he came to her side before she could blink; putting a protective arm around her waist as he drew his gun and carefully looked out of the window. She stared at his face, his profile sharp with no trace of the joking, foolish young man left. Transfixed, she hardly noticed when his grips tightened around her once, before he let go.

"You stay hidden, Saukra," he said, voice still and soothing, making her calm a bit even as the sounds of guns continued to abuse her ears. "Keep low, close to the floor, and do not look out of the window; you mustn't let them see you, alright?"

She nodded, too afraid and lost to do much else. He patted her head, a soft smile gracing his lips. "Don't worry, Sakura. I won't let anything happen to you; just do as I say and it'll be fine, you know?"

Again, she nodded; watching him with wide eyes as he stood and climbed out of the window as if the wagon wasn't moving, and there were no crazy, armed men outside. She took a moment to wonder why the hell this was happening to her, before she realized that things had just been going way too smoothly up until now, so, why shouldn't this happen? She knew she should've expected it; it wasn't uncommon that people were attacked and robbed during travels like these, but that did nothing to lessen her fright.

As the sound random shooting of guns changed into a purposeful string of shots aimed to hit a target, the amount of bullets fired increasing by the second, she found herself slipping down to the floor; huddling together in a frightened bundle of the pathetic, helpless maiden-in-peril persona.

She really, really _hated_ the West.

o-oOo-o

It had been a long time since he found himself in a situation like this. Seven against one, he knew he had little chance of coming out of this alive. Had his revolver been a few models newer, if he'd been in possession of a few more bullets, then perhaps he would've pulled through. But even then, he had a sinking feeling that only he would come out of this unscratched.

The coachman was already badly hurt, bleeding from a wound in his chest he knew would be the death of him within minutes. The blonde only had those minutes to take out as many of the men as possible before he had to take over the steering of the, by now, wild horses. With only three of the men gone, that would make it almost impossible. He only knew of one way out that would save the young girl hiding in the cart, and that would allow him to be around for protection as well, and that was to quickly abandon the wagon and go for the horses. Looking around, he noted his surroundings and realized he was closer to a safe destination than he previously had anticipated; it seems the trip had gone a lot faster than he'd noticed, for which he was grateful. Shaking his head, he dodged to avoid another bullet; his grim mood lifting as he came to the conclusion that he would, without doubt, get them out of this situation.

Firing another round of deadly accurate shots, he moved from the roof of the shaking wagon to slip past the distressed coachman, sending him a sad look before jumping onto the nearest horse. The wounded man shouted, realizing what he had in mind, and tugged at the reins in a fit of panic. He knew the blonde would leave him behind.

Ignoring the yells coming from behind him, the blonde temporary put his gun away to reach for the knife in his boots; freeing the horse he was riding and quickly doing the same to the horse beside him. Taking a good hold of the neighbour animal, he steered both out of the way as he fumbled for his revolver; keeping an eye on the men circling the now horseless wagon. Firing a few well-aimed bullets, he made his way towards the window he had climbed out of, looking in to see the pink haired girl huddled on the floor. He felt his heart tug at the sight, but had to time to ponder it as he shouted her name; capturing her attention immediately.

"Sakura!! Come to the door, hurry! You need to get on this horse!" he screamed, steering the horses to place the free one as close as it would allow to the wagon's door. She stared at him, wide eyed, for a few moments before a new round of bullets made her move quickly. Soon she was pulling the door open and struggling to climb up on the horse. The speed had dropped rapidly since he cut off the two horses, leaving the cart with nothing to keep pulling it forward, and for that he was slightly grateful. It was not easy getting on a horse in motion, but somehow, the young girl managed. She lay sprawled over the horse's back, desperately trying to fling her leg over so she would lie in the right direction instead of straddling it the way she did. He hoped she had a strong grip of the horse, because they needed to speed up. With a tug against the piece of rein still attached to the horse beside him, he moved them away from the slowing wagon and hurriedly increased their speed. She heard her let out a scream when he let go of her horse, turning to answer the many bullets chasing them. He kept the other men at a distance, managing to ride to the other side of the girl's horse to help her move into a safer position. It was tricky, but with a few helpful pushes, she was lying along the horse's back, clinging to the strong throat and with each leg on either side of it. He breathed a sigh of relief, slapping the back of the animal roughly to get it moving, knowing it was heading in the right direction. He needed to take care of the pursuers, and would catch up with her as soon as he was done. Sending an assuring smile in her direction when she turned to gaze at him, utterly horrified, he just hoped she wouldn't do anything stupid. Perhaps he should've told her something? Well, too late now he realized.

Cursing lightly, he turned and made his way to meet the robbers head-on; sometimes, he had to admit, he didn't think things through.

o-oOo-o

There were many things in her life that she was uncertain of. Like her past, her future; even herself. Who were the people who had brought her to this world? How had she survived her first years of life? Where did she _come_ from? She didn't know, but had never been really troubled by this. There were many people like her, she knew. But all were different; turned out to be different kind of people as they aged. She wondered who she would end up as, where she could, or would, go in life. She had always dreamed of adventures, had always had a girlish desire to be swept off her feet. She had never imagined either of them would come true, but at the moment, she wondered what you classified as an _adventure_.

She was sure this was more like a nightmare, and she was just as sure that she would, if not kill then at least cause some _serious harm,_ to a certain blonde wanna-be cowboy.

The horse she was clinging so desperately to as these thoughts passed through her confused, scared mind was a magnificent animal, she realized. It had been running or trotting since they left town, and now it was galloping at high speed towards God knows where. It hadn't had a break for hours, and she wondered when its legs would give out, and how painful it could be to hit the ground as it stumbled at the speed it was currently racing. The sweat smelled bad, and she was mildly disgusted that the side of her face was currently pressed hard against its impressive neck, where the salty water was collecting rapidly. The situation, however, was too absurd and frightening to allow her the privilege of being offended by things such as a (life saving, she added) horse's sweat, and the growing discomfort of lying like a helpless ragdoll on the back of said animal. It was quite obvious she had never ridden before (_at least not like this,_ a familiar voice whispered), and she dared not straighten up in her slightly painful seat in case she would fall off in her inexperience.

Really, once she got her hands on Naruto she would strangle him till he turned blue. Why hadn't he allowed her to ride with him? It would have been much better if she'd been seated in front of him since he would've kept her from falling off, chased the gun wielding robbers away, _and_ steered her in a safe, secure direction. She really couldn't see how any of that was a worse idea than sending her off on a horse alone, and it would take a lot to convince her otherwise. Sighing, she opened her eyes after having them shut for a good few minutes, noticing that the sounds of shooting had ceased. Her heart fluttered, before she realized that there was more than one explanation. Either the irritating blonde had won, or he had lost. Or, she thought with a slight whimper, her horse had taken her so far away that the sound simply couldn't reach her anymore. Well, either way, it couldn't really get worse, right?

The sound of hooves made her stiffen, before she realized it was only one horse. The men had been around three to five, so it had to be Naruto. Relieved, she slowly moved to locate the blonde. Her green eyes landed on a brown and white coloured horse, moving up to greet the gaze of its rider.

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

_How was this possible?!_

**o-oOo-o**

**TBC**

**oOo**

**A/N:** _Ah, yes, a cliffhanger. So sorry about that, but I've been drawing out the chapter as much as possible to make it long enough. Didn't quite succeed -sighs-_

_Anyway, yes, Naruto-kun! Wild cowboy extraordinaire! _

_I'm sure you're wondering why his name is still Naruto, when he is born and bred an American in this story? Well, everything has an explanation...that will arrive later, I assure you._

_I'd also like to explain his way of speech. I'm aware that it is clean and probably a bit stiff, but I am not confident enough with the English language to write slang; much less old Western slang. I hope you noticed that I pointed out his strange accent though, because that's the only odd thing I have about his way of talking. I chose not to use "dattebayo" or "believe it" mainly because the first is a Japanese "phrase" and the latter is so utterly annoying that I can't bring myself to write it. It doesn't fit my Naruto's character in this story anyway, so yeah. I do however have him use phrases such as "you know?" or "you see?" a lot. Hopefully that'll be enough._

_And then there's the whole story of how Naruto and his bastard friend (Sasuke, as you should've figured out by now) met...I'm aware that it is far fetched, but so is this whole story. Everyone will be connected one way or another, because...well, I like it that way haha :P _

_If you're wondering what characters I'll introduce in this story, I will give you a few that I'm sure of at the moment. It might change but right now, I'm pretty sure I'll be using Jiraya, Uchiha Fugaku and Mikoto (with a different name, of course), and maybe, maaaybe, Kakashi (with a different name, I think). Oh, and Sasuke, obviously. Tsunade and Ino will probably make an apperance. That's it for now, I think :)_

**Hopefully my continuation of the story doesn't suck too bad so far, I really hope I haven't disappointed any of you; you've been so kind with your reviews and favs and alerts! I'm really grateful! :D**

**Send me your thoughts on how I'm doing so far, I'd like to know if I really should continue any further with this or just take the chapter down; no use writing something no one likes, no? :P**

**Thanks for taking your time to read! :D**


	3. Chapter 2

**Status:** Incomplete

**Notes:** April 15, 1850 - San Francisco, California is incorporated as a city.

1848, Captain James Glynn sailed to Nagasaki, which lead to the first successful negotiation by an American with sakoku Japan. Upon his return to North America, Glynn recommended to the U.S. Congress that any negotiations to open up Japan should be backed up by a demonstration of force; this paved the way for the later expedition of Commodore Matthew Perry.

_**A/N: **Those were the historical facts I've used to write this chapter. I have used a lot more, but I won't reveal them until it is clearly revealed in the story. It would be boring to spoil it for you haha :P_

_Anyway, I'm sorry about this delayed update. I've been swamped with schoolwork, and spent a week in France, followed by a week spent in bed due to fever and a bad cough. Then it was all about catching up with school again, and now I will spend a week taking care of a French student. So, time for my writing is limited. _

_That aside, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter! It's a step forward in the story, even if it might seem like a filler. Three more characters introduced! :D WOHO!_

_For any grammar mistakes and/or typos, I am deeply sorry. Hopefully it won't disturb your reading too much._

_**

* * *

**_

**o-oOo-o**

**Wild, Wild Love**

**o-oOo-o**

_**Introducing Perspectives**_

Location; _San Francisco, California_

Looking out of the window, he observed the streets below with mild interest. Having just been incorporated as a city earlier this year, it had experienced a healthy increase in both economy and business, especially trading by boat because of the location near the sea. This was the reason why he had established his own business here early on, anticipating that it would serve well for him after a few years. With funding from his wife, and a large amount of his own fortune, it had been quite easy to get started, but it wasn't till now that he was starting to notice the increase of income. Slowly, a balance was building between the receipts and expenses. It was yet to be stable, but he was a patient man, and with the support and cooperation he had he was sure to succeed. Running his own trading company – consisting of only a few ships – would not run as smoothly had he not known the people he did. His own son was of a great use as well; even the younger son was promising, although not as brilliant as the elder.

A knock on his office's door brought him out of his thoughts, and Fugaku Uchiha turned from the window overlooking busy streets in order to greet whoever called for his attention. "Enter!" he called, the heavy Japanese accent still bothering him enough to make him frown. Twenty-two years, and he had yet to master the language!

"_Father,"_ the man entering the room greeted in a more familiar language, his long, raven hair tied back; only the long bangs on either side of his face escaped the silky ribbon. Fugaku's frown eased slightly as he remained on his spot, observing his oldest son as he came to stand before his desk. Acknowledging him with a nod, the older man waited for him to state his business. _"I have finished reading the contract, and found nothing that would harm the company; I only have a few disagreements that I am sure you have already spotted. It will be ready to be signed after Mr. Wilson and Mr. Norman have offered their opinion as well."_

Fugaku nodded, pleased by the efficient way his son worked. It was quick and satisfactory, and in this case, highly needed. The Uchiha clan leader was trying to settle a trading relationship with another company in Japan; having tried to do so for almost two years with a painfully slow progress. Only now were they able to start form a contract, but the Japanese trading counterpart had yet to send a ship with their businessmen to negotiate about the upcoming alliance. He suspected they would do so within days, which gave them enough time to make sure the contract was waterproof and would benefit his company as much as possible without rousing any significant suspicion.

"_Very well Itachi," _he answered his son, the Japanese rolling smoothly off his tongue. _"It seems like this will work out for the best. You are free for today; I'll have a talk with Mr. Wilson and Mr. Norman as soon as possible."_

The younger male nodded, turning to leave. Fugaku spoke again, as the door opened. _"If you're going into town, bring your brother. I'm sure he must be quite bored."_

Sending his father an amused grin provoked by the dry tone of the elder's voice, he replied with a nod; _"As was my intention father; Sasuke has been quite eager to meet up with his teacher. Since he's in town, I thought we could pay him a visit."_

Sighing, the man nodded and gestured for the youth to leave; feeling quite tired. Sasuke's teacher was in town? Well, this could only mean trouble. He just hoped they wouldn't get him involved in whatever mess would surely occur.

o-oOo-o

Kakashi was a rather simple person. He believed himself to be forgettable; easy to slip by unnoticed in a crowd, and hiding behind the image of _irrelevant_. But even though he was simple, he was also smart, and knew for a fact that he was none of the things he believed he was. In defense of this horrible contradiction, he had to say it was all a matter of how you look at things; a point of view, a _perspective,_ if you like.

And this particular ability to confuse using the tongue (sometimes in less respectful manners than mere speaking) had time and again proved to be one of the qualities he possessed that made him able to _blend in_, despite not being subtle at all. With grey, spiky hair on a not-old (he refused to use "youthful", due to past scarring encounters) head and an ever-present scarf covering half of his face like a common robber, it was hard to not attract some kind of attention (especially when the combination of his covered face and his holster inevitably would stir unease in these times).

Which is why, he reasoned, people were currently giving him a wide breadth while walking by where he sat on the abandoned barrels outside one of the stores along the busiest street in town. Not that he cared, for whatever was left visible of his face was now hidden behind both his hat and book. As long as he paid _them_ no mind, perhaps they would return the favor. It was wistful thinking, he knew, but again, _it was all about perspectives_.

"Good evening, old friend," a familiar voice interrupted. Kakashi grunted in reply, staring stubbornly at the paragraph he knew he would not be allowed to finish. The man was just about to remove that lacy, delicate garter with his mouth and the woman's reactions were promising, so far. When the presence of the speaker did not go away, he sighed and snapped his book shut; smiling despite the knowledge that it wouldn't be visible. Only the crinkles of his eye betrayed it.

"Ah, Itachi! Long time no seen. How's your brother?"

oOo

_The sound of hooves made her stiffen, before she realized it was only one horse. The men had been around three to five, so it had to be Naruto. Relieved, she slowly moved to locate the blonde. Her green eyes landed on a brown and white coloured horse, moving up to greet the gaze of its rider._

_Her mouth opened, but no sound came out._

_**How was this possible?!**_

_oOo_

Location; _California, a few miles from the border of Oregon_

Heaving a deep, _heavy_ sigh, Sakura stared blankly at the fabric making up the walls of a rather small tipi; feeling utterly miserable. Her eyes were dry after spending so much time crying, and her throat was still raw from screaming when the Indian man snatched her off her horse and rode off to his camp. But no matter how much she'd kicked, screamed, cried and begged, the redskin had not budged.

So, here she was; prisoner of a wild bunch of savages, hands and feet securely bound. The panic of getting captured had given way to shock, which was finally starting to subside into the despair she was currently trying to suppress. It would do her no good to make the situation even less favorable by encouraging thoughts and emotions that would leave her feeling worse than she already did. Thus she tried to see the humor in having escaped armed robbers, only to end up bound inside a tent in the middle of nowhere – _waiting for the Indian Chief to come back from a hunt._ Or something like that. She hadn't been paying much attention when the man who had greeted her captor upon arrival had spoken to her in broken English. If he had indeed told her that they were waiting for the Chief, she couldn't help but wonder if she wanted it to happen sooner or later.

If it was later, then perhaps there was a slim chance that Naruto would somehow come to her rescue. But if it was sooner, then whatever was to happen to her would be over more quickly; Naruto choosing to be hero or not.

"This really isn't my day," she mumbled out loud, shoulders hunched and lips pulled down in a slightly pained frown. Her legs and arms were starting to protest from the awkward position she was in, but at the moment, she didn't really care. Having no good understanding of time, she could only guess how long she had been alone in the empty tipi; waiting for something, or someone, to tell her what was going to happen. It was quite maddening, but she tried hard not to give in to another fit of hysterics.

A few more moments dragged by, with only the sound of children playing outside and men and women alike talking in what seemed like several different language she'd never heard before. When a few of those voices grew stronger, changing from a background buzzing to a much more distinctive sound, she stiffened and felt a new panic attack creep up on her rapidly. Once the loose fabric working as a door was being pushed aside in order to let the owners of the voices in, she was already trying desperately to wriggle as far away as possible; scooting backwards with difficulty. It wasn't until a deep laugh filled the small tent that she looked up to see exactly _who_ had entered.

A tall, well-built man well into his forties stood before her; skin dark from the sun, hair bony white and blending with the feathers of his headdress. Red war-paint decorated his face, and what was visible of his chest. He wore what she assumed to be typical Indian wear; leather and rough fabric, worn from sun and whatever activities he participated in (she wasn't sure if Indians did much more than ride horses, paint themselves, wage war against the Whites and kidnap innocent, helpless maidens, among other gruesome acts she'd heard from the men passing through her old town). He must be the Chief, not only for the overly decorative headdress but he seemed to give off an aura of authority and power. She didn't know if her nervous, highly distressed emotional state was to blame, but at the moment, that wasn't what interested her. No, because the man before her looked _nothing_ like a redskin; merely like an American dressed in a savage's clothes. She had barely taken time to progress this before she noticed the person hiding behind the huge frame of the Chief. Spikes of sunny blonde hair could be seen and once she spotted the blue orb of a familiar, twinkling eye she let out a loud scream of dismay.

"NARUTO?! WHAT THE HELL?!" she exclaimed, completely forgetting her rather dire situation in favor of letting out all her frustration, fear, misery and anguish on the guilty looking young man. If he'd seemed surprised at hearing her coarse language, then she hadn't noticed. But if she had, she wouldn't have cared. "WHERE THE FUCK WHERE YOU?! HAVE YOU _ANY_ IDEA WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH?! YOU—YOU _ASS!!_"

She was abruptly reminded of where she was and why she was feeling like jumping off a cliff in the first place when the man, whom she'd named Chief for now, let out another bout of rich laughter. Had he been someone else, and had she not been bound and victim of way too many bad things during the course of one day, then she would've found it charming and contagious. Sadly, she was not at all amused to realize she'd just snapped in the presence of an Indian Chief and possibly earned a fate worse than whatever the redskins had planned for her from the beginning. Staring with wide eyes at the blonde, her whole being filled with too many contradicting feelings for her to bother acknowledging, she absently wondered why he was chuckling nervously and scratching his head like nothing bad was happening. Really, she would never understand men.

"Seems like you've found yourself a feisty lady this time around, Barking Fox! A quite fine one, if I may say so. Since when did you get such a good taste in women, kid?" the Chief said in heavy accented English, voice still filled with laughter as he patted the younger man's back in what looked like a rather painful manner. Struggling to keep his balance, the blonde growled. "Shut up, you perverted old man! Could you explain to me why you have her all tied up, huh?! Do you do this to all your female hostages? Sick bastard!"

Sakura blinked, stunned by the familiar way the two acted around each other. This was not what she'd imaged when she'd allowed herself to hope Naruto would come for her rescue. This day was beyond salvation; _nothing_ was going the way it _should!_ Sniffing, she looked away, ignoring the argument going on before her. It was all just too absurd. It couldn't possibly get worse now, even if the day wasn't over just yet.

o-oOo-o

It took him a while to explain the situation to a rightfully _pissed_ female, but once he had assured her there was no danger around and no harm would be done to her, or him, she relaxed enough to actually listen to his story.

"So," she said after a while, now seated comfortably in the middle of the tent with her hands and feet free from their previous position after much hissing and beatings from her part. "You somehow thought I would be safer off if you just sent the horse towards this camp, since somehow, these –_people_ –are your…friends?"

He winced at the tone of her voice, well aware of the prejudices that followed his people everywhere in this country. Even if he didn't want to admit that she too had such thoughts of the Indians, he knew that it was stupid to expect something else. But like with the Whites, Indians too had their own less kind opinions about the fair skinned. None of them – be it white or red – had any intentions of seeing things from the other's perspective. It was a tiresome circle of blind hate and violence he would do _anything_ to break, which was why he silently swore to himself that somehow, he would make this beautiful young lady understand by the end of the night. It was already dusk, and soon the old perverted hermit would come and fetch them for dinner, so he reasoned now would be a good time to start since she had calmed down from her previous fit of rage as well.

"Yeah, exactly!" he began, sunny grin in place. "There is nowhere safer than here in the prairies, Miss! My people would die to protect you, you know. The tying you up was to keep you from running away; I was told you were pretty desperate to get away. I'm sorry about that, Miss Sakura. I should've wanted you, but I didn't have time to think…" He trailed off once he realized that his speech had not gone the way he had intended, and warily he eyed the pink-haired girl for any sign of anger. She merely looked annoyed, and he wondered if perhaps she was too tired to throw another fit.

"I told you already; I'm not happy about it, but it saved me. So thank you," she sighed, pausing as a puzzled look settled in her impressive, emerald eyes. "I was wondering, Naruto…You keep referring to the..Indians…as _your people_. How come?"

Grinning widely, he gave himself a mental pat on the back. She had unknowingly steered the conversation in the direction he wanted, and for that, he was grateful. He had never been one to organize his speech.

"I think I'd have to tell you my story for you to understand, Miss Sakura," he said, momentarily pausing to think of her own tale she had shared on the carriage ride. "I never got the chance to repay your favor earlier today, did I?"

He found himself blushing at the sweet smile she sent him, suddenly feeling a need to make her do that more often. His musings were interrupted by her equally sweet voice, now devoid of any irritation or sore emotions. "I'd love to hear it, Naruto. I'm very curious about you, you know."

For a few seconds, he was stunned. Then he realized that this was the second person in his life who had ever wanted to know about his past. A third person had claimed he didn't care about the past, and he was fine with that, but this was different.

It was odd, but suddenly he felt _modest._

o-oOo-o

Naruto never got to tell his story in the tipi, due to the Chief's interruption. Had it not been to invite them for dinner, she would've been much more annoyed than she was. At the moment, she was quite content with sitting by a large fire munching at the delicious wings of some big bird, and occasionally taking a sip of wine (how they had gotten a hold of the beverage in the middle of nowhere, she didn't want to know).

Her blonde companion was seated to her right, on the large trunk of wood serving as a bench, and happily stuffing his face with meat, potatoes and multicolored berries. He was occupying any space left by her side since she had chosen to sit by the very end of the trunk, thus saving her from any unwanted company. Nothing of what he had told her so far made her less ill at ease around these redskins, but she hoped his story would maybe calm her nerves enough for sleep to come tonight. Licking her fingers clean, she decided now was a good time to urge him to continue where he left off in the tent (which was around "when I was a kid").

"Hey, Naruto," she called, getting his attention. Suppressing a wince at his bad eating habits, she smiled. "I'd like to hear your story now, if it's okay with you."

She had to wait for his answer, since his mouth was too full to even pronounce "yes", and she had to stifle her giggles at the amusing sight he made when he tried to swallow everything at once. Coughing, he quickly took a gulp of wine before breathing deeply and turning to face her with a sheepish grin.

"Yeah, of course!" he said, settling his plate on his knee as he cleared his throat. "I apologies in beforehand, Miss Sakura. I'm not the best storyteller, but you don't have to worry; the story is good enough to make up for it!"

His confidence made her laugh, because he positively radiated of it, and because it somehow was so...so very _Naruto._

"Anyway, like I said in the tent before the pervert interrupted us, this story begins when I was a kid. I was an orphan, you see. I don't remember my parents at all, so no need to feel sorry about it," he began, hurriedly assuring her before she could offer her regrets. She frowned, but urged for him to continue. "Anyhow, I lived quite a good life at that orphanage. I mean, I lived better than most people; I had food three times a day, clothes and someplace to sleep with a roof over my head.

Back then, I didn't really appreciate it though, 'cause I've always been an outsider and the other kids weren't exactly kind. It wasn't their fault though; the monks and nuns treated us pretty roughly. I was quite the rebel, so they were extra harsh on me. I wasn't really following the path God's children should.

And one day, I wasn't sure if I wanted to either."

**o-oOo-o**

**TBC**

**oOo**

* * *

_A/N: __-GROAN- yes, I know, it is SHORT. And a bad cliffie to boot. _

_Anyway, I am aware that I have started a lot of things in this chapter, only to leave them hanging. One of the reasons being that I don't want to overwhelm with a lot of plot at the same time. Much like the title says, it's an introduction of sorts. Kakashi's and Sasuke's characters and Naruto's story are things I wanna develop, so yeah._

_But don't worry, I aim to fit a lot of ItaSaku into this. I just don't know how long it'll take haha XD_

_That aside, I hope you enjoyed the read! :) Please leave me a review! _

_Thanks! :D _


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